The Blonde and the Bloke
by Rointheta
Summary: Three teenagers observe the Doctor and Rose in an amusement park, and bet on whether the couple will snog or not.


**prompt**: amusement park + blackout + lipstick  
**unbeta'd**  
**Note**: This is written from an oc's POV, but it's Ten/Rose.

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**THE BLONDE AND THE BLOKE**

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Bengt cards a hand through his turquoise mop, eyes drifting over the queue of people waiting to take a ride through _The Haunted House of Doom_. His mate Farah works here from ten in the morning to ten in the evening, and he and their other mate Jocke hang around most of the day to keep her company. Now and then her boss swings by to snark for a bit, asking them if they don't have anything better to do than loitering all day. They don't. Their small town doesn't have much to offer during the day other than this rickety old amusement park.

"What about them," Jocke says, nodding at a group of teenagers in leather trousers and spiky hair. "Tough on the outside, wimps on the inside, don't you reckon? I bet you a pint that they'll piss their pants at the White Witch."

"Yeah, you're on. And those two," Bengt inclines his head at a wrinkly, grey-haired couple, "the old man's gonna croak."

"C'mon, don't be morbid," Farah says, twirling a frizzy, black lock between her fingers.

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Did you know that that happened a year ago, though? Steve told me all about it. Some poor bastard got so scared when the mummy pops out he just…" She slips her tongue out the corner of her mouth and makes a harsh sound in the back of her throat, rolling her dark eyes back in her head. "Say something about them two instead."

She nods at a young, blond woman standing next to a bloke in a long coat much too warm for such a sunny day. The blonde says something that makes the bloke bark out a laugh so loud the grey-haired couple turns around, shaking their heads in disapproval. The blonde bites her lip and shoots the bloke a look; he leans closer to her, tilting his head from side to side and grinning. Her eyes widen, flickering down to his lips. He jumps forward, closing the gap that has appeared between them and the people in front of them. She blinks a couple of times, smile fading, but then she shakes her head and follows him, grin back in place.

"They'll probably shag." Jocke waggles his eyebrows. "Thank god for surveillance cameras, eh? Won't mind seeing the tits of–"

Bengt elbows him in the side. "Oi, mate. Show a little respect," he says and Jocke rolls his eyes. "I bet they'll snog their brains out, though."

"Hold on," Farah says over her shoulder, turning to a family of four and helping them onto the ride before returning to her friends. "Nah. Look at them. They've not even kissed yet."

"Yeah? What makes you think that, then?"

"They're not holding hands, for one. And they keep looking at each other when the other's not looking. And before, when they joined the queue, he whispered something in her ear and she blushed."

"Maybe he said something dirty."

Farah shakes her head. "Trust me. They're not boyfriend and girlfriend."

"Maybe it's a first date."

"Does he look like a bloke who'd bring a lady to this place? Nah, they're mates."

"Yeah, mates who fancy each other," Bengt says, plucking the cigarette he's been keeping behind his ear and sticking it between his lips.

He lights it and takes a drag, blowing a couple of smoke rings before he catches sight of a father of two snotty kids glaring at him and wrinkling his nose. Bengt makes an exaggerated eyeroll, but lets the cigarette drop to the ground and crushes it with the heel of his dusty trainers.

"Yeah…" Farah sighs. "I wish a bloke could look at me like that one looks at her."

Jocke snorts and opens his mouth to say something, but Bengt shuts him down with a steady scowl.

"So, what are we betting for, anyway?" he asks.

"Hm…" Farah crinkles her nose in thought. "Losers have to pay for the winner when we go to the pub tonight. Good?"

"Yeah. You're on," Jocke says and Bengt nods. "I say they shag."

"I say they snog."

"And I'm betting they do neither," Farah says. "They want to, both of 'em, but they won't."

"Yeah," Jocke nudges Bengt in the side, "suppose some lacks the guts needed to take the first step, eh?"

Bengt plasters a grin on his face, nodding at the couple inching closer to them, and says through the corner of his mouth, "And some doesn't know when to put a sock in it."

They stay silent until the blonde and the bloke come up to them, pay for their rides and settle down inside the small, red car. The bloke sniffs and shifts in his seat, laying his arm on the backrest behind the blonde. She smiles and scoots closer, but keeps her eyes directed at the track leading into _The Haunted House of Doom_.

Winking at Bengt and Jocke, Farah pushes a button and the car starts rolling. The couple jolts at the abrupt start and leans even closer together, eyes crinkling and mouths wide open with laughter.

"I'm gonna win," Bengt says, knocking out another cigarette from his packet by tapping the bottom with two fingers. He closes his lips around it and pulls it out, lighting up and drawing in deep. "They won't reach farther than the banshees before there's some good snogging going on."

"Yeah, we'll see," Jocke says, moseying over to the surveillance cameras inside the ticket booth. "I'll keep an eye on them, and you two can hold the fort out there."

"You don't even work here," Farah sing-songs, but she links her arm with Bengt's and waits for the next people in the queue to shuffle into their car.

It takes exactly six minutes and forty-five seconds to ride _The Haunted House of Doom_ and Jocke keeps them updated with a running commentary; however, five minutes after the couple vanished through the first doors, they've still not done anything more advanced than some lower-thigh touching, hand-holding, and eyelash batting.

Farah straightens her back and smirks, talking about all the things she's going to order at the pub, when every attraction stills, every colourful light dies, and the din of hundreds of worried people talking replaces the music that usually blares out from speakers all over the amusement park. She slips away to calm the visitors, so Bengt joins Jocke in the ticket booth and grabs one of her magazines to flip through. He's through half of it when the power goes back on and the place comes alive. People cheer and applaud, and Farah goes back to her post, so he puts down the magazine to join her.

Jocke sighs and follows him outside, leaning against the wall of the booth and nicking Bengt's cigarette packet from his pocket. "Suppose we won't know who wins now, then."

"Oh? Why not?"

"Monitors aren't back on yet."

"Yeah," Farah says, " takes a while for them. Give it a mo'."

"We don't have a mo'. They're coming out of there any second now."

"God, you're daft. Just check for untucked clothing, or mussed up hair, or..." Farah grins from ear to ear, watching the blonde and the bloke's car appear and roll the last few metres to the platform where they get off the ride. "Or smudged lipstick."

The bloke climbs out of the car, holding his hand out to help the blonde, but she's already getting out of her own and doesn't see his gesture. He sticks his hands into his pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet, head tilted back a little. He's looking dazed, hair a mess, lipstick all over his lips, cheeks, and some on his collar. Beaming with her tongue poking out between her teeth, the blonde grabs his shoulder to steady herself as she pushes up on tiptoes and cleans some off the lipstick off his flushed cheek with her thumb.

Their eyes connect and they just _stare_ at one another, until the next car arrives and a group of teenagers shouts at them to get out of the way. The blonde loops her arm around his, pressing close to his side. His face lights up and they rush off, joining the sea of people moving from attraction to attraction.

"Suppose you won, then, Bengt." Jocke slings his arm around his friend's shoulders. "That's a just-got-snogged look, if I ever saw one."

"Yeah." Bengt cocks his head with a smug grin. "Always was good at this game."

"Yeah? How about them, then?" Jocke nods at another couple a few metres down the queue and they start bickering about another bet until Farah joins them again.

"Oh, god, look at them." She laughs, pointing to the left. "They're at it again. Behind the candyfloss stand."

Bengt cranes his neck and grins when he sees the couple. The blonde has pushed the bloke up against the fence surrounding the amusement park, the wire netting buckling under their combined weight, mouths locked in a deep kiss. Their treats lie forgotten and trampled on the ground, pink fluff sticking to their trainers. He's gripping her waist, fingers slipping under the hem of her top; she's tugging at his hair as she moves against him, hips rocking.

"Wow," Jocke says with a crooked grin, "sure pays off to have some guts to take the first step, huh?"

"You could say that again." Farah turns to Bengt. "Have you started thinking about what you want, then?"

He blinks, scratching his chin. "Huh? What? What d'you mean?"

"Tonight. At the pub." Her lips curl into a soft smile, eyes sparkling. "We're paying for you, remember? Since you won and all."

"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I remember." He shifts a little closer to her, meeting her warm gaze. "Dunno, doesn't really matter. It's the company I'm after, anyways."

"Yeah?"

Her smile fades a little, but her cheeks turn pink and her eyes searches his in a way that makes his stomach swoop. He opens his mouth to say something, but another family needs her help and she dashes to their side. He watches her for a moment before seeking out the couple again. They're still snogging against the fence, but a security guard is heading towards them and the bloke notices. He grabs the blonde's hand and tugs her with him, laughing and running towards a blue shed Bengt has never seen before.

"Feeling inspired?" Jocke asks, simpering and fluttering his eyelashes.

Bengt nods. "I am, actually."

"Well, old friend," Jocke slaps him on the back, "about bloody time."

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**the end**


End file.
